Celebrating every little gift, every single day.

Friday, 23 May 2014

Daisies by the Roadside

When I was a child,
not so ruled by clocks and calendars
the first white daisies on the roadside
said summertime to me.

I picked those daisies by the armful.

Mom smiled and thanked me for the gift
despite the bugs who came along for the ride.

I put them in jars of coloured water,
and watched, fascinated,
as they drank deeply and changed before my eyes.

Daisy chains sufficient to circle the globe
were woven beneath cloud-drift, sunlit skies.

There were other things too:

Wild roses twined with honeysuckle
grazed by does through wire fences,
wobbly-legged fawns with dappled white coats
hidden in the shade nearby,

Birds singing in the dark an hour before sunrise,
and bats taking wing in evening skies,

Mild morning air
making bare-legged bike rides
for the first time not a punishment,


then and still,

white daisies by the roadside
say summertime to me.